


1000 Miles

by thecarlysutra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>SUMMARY:</b> Post-series, they travel the world. <br/><b>AUTHOR’S NOTES:</b> Written for <b>Weiryn</b> for Rare Pair Fest 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1000 Miles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coppercrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppercrow/gifts).



  
They travel to lush jungles. Luna pushes back the foliage with her wand, chatting constantly about the hiding places of snorgles and the beauty of wumples, and Neville points to the exotic blooms and tells about their healing powers or the fact that their thorns can be powdered to be used in a levitation serum. Harry takes up the back, listening. 

***

Luna holds a tiny gold frog in her palm. Its eyes are gemlike, luminous and green. Luna runs her forefinger over its spine, and then sucks on her finger. 

“Sweet,” she says, and her pupils dilate. 

Later she tastes like strawberries and makes Harry's vision waver. He watches the echo tracks where her body slowly moves through space, his fingers in the hair cascading down her dimpled back. Neville beside him is strangely still, watching them both silently until he says, “I wish this would last,” and Harry can't tell if he's talking about the drug or something else, something less tangible. Because time will run through their fingers, but this moment is as potent as the frog’s venom running through their veins, every heart swelling beat distilled and crystalline, perfect. 

***

It's not that they're running, it's just that they're away. Letters pile up at the doorstep of the cottage back in England, and they'll be cherished whenever it is that they come back to them, but right now they are not missed. They are in the desert now, Luna on her belly in the sand coaxing a tiny, fire breathing horny lizard to leave its burrow. 

“Their flames can burn forever,” she says, and Harry knows what that's about. 

Neville navigates the stickers of a cactus to cut open its flesh. He pours water into Harry's cupped hands, and Harry drinks; it is like aloe, cool and refreshing with a distinctly fresh, slightly herby taste. Luna is still hunting for her lizard so for a moment it's just Harry and Neville, but at the same time it's all of them, the connection constant and strong, an elastic cable tethering them together. Harry looks up at the sun burning over them, and their shadows grow longer across the gold sand. 

***

Luna braids her long, silver-white hair, weaves wildflowers into the plaits. She looks like something out of a fairytale with her ethereally pale skin and ice blue eyes and graceful gazelle slenderness. Harry buttons up his shirtfront while watching Neville in the mirror behind him. Even watching the broad form of him, the scruff on his chin, it’s difficult for Harry to see anything but the first year petrified on the floor in his pajamas, stunned by Hermione’s spell. It’s funny how memory distills things into one moment. Harry sees Neville like a memory swirling in the pensieve, silver and shimmery like dew but as enduring as the mountains. 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, and he’s always asking, and they never answer. It’s a way of life now, and a good one.

They pull a boat into the murky water of a marsh. Weeping willows hang down around them, their leaves nearly touching the dark water. Fireflies blink on and off, like fairy lights twined in the trees, and somewhere—everywhere—birds or insects or unknown animals are chirping and whispering, like the world around them is breathing. 

Neville’s broad shoulders flex beneath his shirt as he works the oars, propelling the boat over the water reflecting the full moon above them. It’s like sailing on a mirror: everything is repeated on and on, forever and ever, this one moment the only moment, an eternity.

The memory in the pensieve, the entire world contained in a pearl on the end of a wand, in a pearl in Harry’s palm or hanging by silver wire from the pale shell of Luna’s ear.

Luna pours bubble tea into paper thin teacups. Some bubbles escape into the atmosphere, and Harry looks through them to see the world magnified, distorted. The bubbles tickle; Luna takes a sip and her nose scrunches, which is just as lovely as every part of her. Something warm blooms in Harry’s chest looking at her, and she looks back, almost blushing and almost smiling.

Neville’s shoulders relax as he balances the oars in the oarlock, the boat stilling in the center of the marsh. Droplets of water slip from the oar blades and dimple the water, sending ripples across the dark, glassy surface. The boat spins slightly, or Harry’s head; there’s no telling which. Luna dips into her basket and pulls out pulpy strawberries. They stain their fingers as they suck them into their mouths. The strawberries taste wild and raw and sweet and sharp, and Harry remembers the taste of the frog’s venom on Luna, how the world dilated then—how it always seems to dilate when the three of them are together, time stretching, everything dripping with sensation. How huge life can be.

When he was younger, ever since the Hogwarts owls assaulted the house on Privet Drive, life seemed so fast. So urgent. Everything was life or death, so much so that sometimes the focus was death and life passed on by. Now, life is the focus of every second; now that life has slowed down, Harry feels as if he’s finally living. 

Luna stretches, her bare legs on either side of Neville in the middle of the boat, her toes tickling Harry’s knees at the other end. They are connected, bow to stern, here to there, there and everywhere. They are separate but seamless, like pearls of the same necklace, strung together. 

Harry sits in the bow of the small, spinning boat, watching Luna and Neville lit by the light of the moon, the taste of strawberries and bubble tea in his mouth. Luna and Neville, Neville and Luna. If they are responsible for anything, it is for changing how he sees the world. It isn't just that they illuminate the wonder of the natural world; they make him realize the wonder of his heart. How it expands, its sheer capacity for love. 

With them, life will always be an adventure.  



End file.
